


Furrier Needed

by bactaqueen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, M/M, Old Men In Love, Rough Sex, fur coat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes home to Bucky wearing nothing but a fur coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Furrier Needed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. No profit is earned and no infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: So [Silvie](http://return-victorious.tumblr.com/) wrote [Take Me to Church](http://decidedlypurple.tumblr.com/post/120305558270/title-take-me-to-church-fandom-captain-america) because a while back I said I'd trade for Bucky het since it didn't seem like there was enough. She asked for Steve and Bucky and sweet/rough sex and a fur coat. I hope I delivered.

Bucky was in the bedroom when Steve got home from globe-hopping and villain-punching, standing in front of the full-length mirror hung on the closet door, wrapped in a fur coat that fell to his knees. His hands were splayed over the breasts, fingers flesh and metal alike dug into the soft-looking fur. Bucky tipped his head as he seemed to consider his reflection. He didn't seem to notice Steve, who set his shield on the floor near the door and shrugged out of his motorcycle jacket, who held up in the door and crossed his arms over his chest and just looked.

Steve was content to just look. He'd missed looking.

"She used to keep the coat on," Bucky said eventually.

Steve frowned. "What?"

Bucky turned to face him, curling his hands around the lapels of the coat. "Clara," he said, as if that clarified anything at all.

Clara. Steve searched his memory for a face. He remembered two faces, but only one of them, he thought, looked like she might have owned a fur coat. He still wasn't sure what conversation Bucky was starting, though. "What?"

Smirking, Bucky opened the coat.

Steve's mouth went dry and his skin went hot.

"Clara," Bucky repeated, conversational, as if his best parts weren't framed beautifully by an open coat of gleaming fur. "You remember her, don't you? We went out with her and her sister. Matchy names. Vera went to powder her nose and never came back."

Bucky had always gotten a thrill out of matching names for the girls they went out with. Steve's lips twisted into a wry smile. Vera he remembered. "I remember her. She met a sailor. I saw 'em when I was leaving." He'd had her crowded into a corner of the dance hall and she hadn't seemed all that upset about it.

"Can you blame her?" Bucky grinned at him. "You wouldn't dance with her. Girls didn't go out to be stuck on the wall, Steve. Not even with you." Bucky ran his hands down the lapels and back up, his expression shifting to something more thoughtful, his eyes faraway. Like he was looking into the past. He smiled a little. "Clara had this coat. Her dad lost all their money on the stock market, but they were still living in the hotel, and she and her sister had to make their own clothes like the rest of us, but she had this coat. Ugly thing." Bucky shook his head. "Smelled like a wet dog. Moths got it in a few places. But she loved it, and she'd put it on." He blinked and seemed to see Steve then. "I didn't understand it. I was just a kid. I thought she missed being spoiled, rich little brat." His grin was something else then, something wicked that sent heat coiling down Steve's spine to pool low in his belly. "Maybe she was, but it feels pretty fucking nice. Want to try it out?"

Steve frowned. "Where did you get it?"

"Cleaners. They contract out to a furrier, but no one picked this one up. They were selling all kinds of stuff."

"And you saw the coat and had to have it. In the summer."

Bucky's lips curved and he shrugged and said, "We got air conditioning now."

And Steve  _liked_ it. He liked that Bucky had the time these days to do things like let something catch his eye and follow the whim where it took him.

He really liked the way the fur looked against his skin. He wondered how it would feel.

"You warm enough?" he asked, and he wasn't surprised at all to hear the rough scrape of his own voice.

"I could be warmer."

Steve pushed away from the door and crossed the room to stand in front of Bucky. He brushed the backs of his knuckles down the lapels, over Bucky's hands, and then slid his arms around him and got handfuls of the coat at the small of Bucky's back, warm fur soft in his fists. He yanked and Bucky stumbled against him.

"I can help with that," he offered.

"Knew you could. My own personal heater." Bucky laid his hands on Steve's chest and tipped his face up.

Steve started to lower his head, but he paused. He took a moment just to study Bucky, to look at his clear bright eyes and his soft mouth, the angle of his jaw and the day's stubble darkening it. He tried not to think about how much he missed this face but he couldn't help it. He couldn't ever help it. All things considered, the time without Bucky hadn't been all that long, but it had been the worst and most painful of his life.

Sometimes he thought about how much he missed his mom and how even that didn't compare to how much he'd missed Bucky.

"You gonna kiss me or are you just gonna stare at me all night?"

"Haven't decided yet."

Laughing low, Bucky surged up and pressed his mouth to Steve's.

The coat was maddeningly soft between them. Normally Steve would feel the long hard lines of Bucky's body, feel the shift of firm muscle beneath warm skin, feel the feverish heat of him through their clothes. Steve dug his fingers deeper into the fur, seeking firm flesh beneath, and pulled him closer. Bucky lost his balance and fell against Steve's chest.

He moaned, short and happy and surprised.

Steve slid one hand around from the small of Bucky's back, over his hip and into the front of the coat. "What do you think she liked about it, Buck?" he murmured. He ran his hand up Bucky's side, under the coat, curved fingers around the side of Bucky's chest and thumbed idly over his nipple.

Bucky's breathing hitched.

But he didn't answer.

So Steve rubbed his thumb one more time around the pebbling nipple, then reached for his hand. He wrapped his fingers tight around Bucky's wrist and twisted his arm down and around and back until he could pin it tight to the small of his back.

Bucky shuddered. "That. I think she liked that."

Steve covered his mouth again.

Bucky was blood-hot, his tongue a slick live thing. Steve kissed him hard, kissed him breathless, swallowed the sweet sound Bucky spilled into his mouth when Steve took his other wrist and pinned it behind his back, too. He held both wrists both in one hand, and the felt the shift of muscles in Bucky's chest, against his own, when he tested Steve's grip. Steve held harder. Hard enough to bruise the flesh and bone wrist, hard enough to make the Adamantium one  _click_ and  _whir_ if not for the noise-absorbing fleshlike skin covering it.

Hard enough to make Bucky make that delicious whimper, the one that made Steve's dick twitch and made his skin feel tight.

The coat fell open between them without Bucky's arms to hold it closed, and that was something, too. To be clothed, to feel the heat of Bucky, naked, against him through his jeans, his shirt. Steve pulled him closer, pressed him tight, and Bucky rubbed against him.

He liked it. Liked the way Bucky tipped his head back, offering himself up. Liked the way he fell open and fell apart. Steve bit his lip and Bucky pushed up, closer, at the same time his knees gave out on him.

Steve laughed. He kissed at the edges of Bucky's mouth and got him down on the bed, on his back with his wrists still behind him. Steve kissed him again and again, kissed the smile right off his face. He bit his lip and scraped his teeth along Bucky's jaw while Bucky shifted and settled. Steve moved, too, kicking off his boots, getting his knees on the bed between Bucky's legs, pushing Bucky's legs wider just to off-balance him, to make him vulnerable.

Bucky gasped, breathless. "Keep moving like that, you're gonna get me off." He thrust his hips up just to make his point.

"Not yet." Steve's voice sounded rough, raw. He squeezed Bucky's wrists. "Don't move those."

"Bossy." Bucky sighed. He spread out a little more, taking up more space on the bed, shifting up on the pillows until Steve's hips were cradled between his thighs. And he writhed, a little, just enough to make his point, rubbing his hard cock against the denim at Steve's hip, smearing precome against his shirt. He grinned, lazy, up at Steve. "Yes, sir, Captain, sir."

Steve groaned. "That's still not funny."

"Fuck you, I'm hilarious. Sir."

Steve nuzzled in under Bucky's jaw and bit the side of his neck just for that.

Instead of protesting, Bucky shuddered. His breath caught. He tossed his head back and exposed the whole long beautiful line of his throat.

Oh, so that was the kind of night it would be. Steve licked over the bruise his teeth had left, then bit again, careful and hard, overlapping the new bruise with the old. They both probably could use it. The chance to give up control, the get lost in just this.

Steve braced his hands in the bed to shift his weight, then slid his hands from Bucky's hips up his sides until he was holding his ribs, hands curved around the sides of his chest, thumbs circling his nipples gently. He kissed down Bucky's neck and dipped his tongue into the hollow of his throat and scraped his teeth along the jut of his collarbone. He rubbed his thumb over the tightening peak of Bucky's right nipple and licked along the scars at the seam where flesh met metal.

Bucky gasped, chest high with held breath.

Steve rubbed his face in the sparse hair over Bucky's breastbone, breathed him in here, where he could smell sweat and skin and the lingering traces of the morning's soap. He licked at the hollow just below his breastbone. Bucky was sensitive there. Steve didn't linger. He just shifted, closed his mouth around Bucky's nipple, and bit.

Bucky moaned.

Steve worried the nipple, kissing and licking and nipping until Bucky squirmed, his elbows twisting like he wanted to move his hands, and then he moved on to the other. He rubbed his thumb over the one he'd left and licked around the other until Bucky thrust his hips up and hissed his name.

After that, and another brief stop to nip at more of the flesh and metal seam, Steve worked down. He licked along the ridges and valleys of Bucky's belly, bit the surprisingly soft flesh beneath his navel.

When Bucky was all breathlessness and taut muscle and bitten-red lips, Steve blew a loud raspberry on the skin just inside his hip

A harsh bark of laughter exploded out of Bucky. "Steve!"

Steve smiled against his hot wet skin. He rubbed a kiss over the line of Bucky's hipbone.

Bucky's breath faltered. "Steve." He laughed, a breathless, happy sound. "I didn't say I wanted to  _be_ Clara."

"No one said you did, Buck." His voice felt raw. He nuzzled down, between Bucky's legs, his cheek against his cock and his lips over his soft hot sac.

"Oh..."

Steve took Bucky's cock into his mouth.

Bucky shuddered, long, and arched his back. "Steve--" Then, "Please, let me put my hands--"

Steve nodded, pulling up, slurping around Bucky's cock as he went.

Bucky threaded his fingers through Steve's hair and held on tight. Steve closed his eyes when Bucky touched the thin hot skin behind his ears, his hairline at the nape of his neck, when he pulled just hard enough to hurt. He bobbed and sucked and slithered his tongue out between his bottom lip and Bucky's cock just to tease the base of it as he tried to swallow around the head.

Bucky breathed his name.

Steve pulled up and off and rolled his eyes up so he could watch Bucky's face as he licked his balls, sucked them gently one at a time into his mouth, mindful of his teeth. He slid fingers up the inside of Bucky's thigh, shouldering them wider apart. He watched Bucky's eyes close, watched his jaw clench.

Felt the toes against his back curl when he pressed two fingers to the hot damp skin behind his sac.

Steve rubbed circles there, larger and larger, until he could brush the tip of his finger over the hot furled ring of his ass.

Bucky spread his legs wider, dug his heel into Steve's back, and pushed.

Steve kissed the inside of his thigh to hide a smile. "Hand me the lube," he murmured.

Bucky twisted, moaning a little when he moved against the coat, and grabbed the lube from under Steve's pillow where it had ended up the night before.

"Don't get any on my coat."

Steve flicked his tongue against the seam of Bucky's sac. "I think you're going to have to find a new cleaners," he said, and squeezed Bucky's fingers gently when he took the offered bottle of lube. He flicked it open with a thumb and went back to licking and sucking at Bucky's balls and the base of his dick.

"This'll be the third time I have to--" Bucky didn't get to finish.

Steve eased a hand under his ass and pulled him up, just a little, just enough to tongue at his asshole.

Bucky sighed, "Fuck."

Steve pressed the tip of one lubed finger just into the tight ring of muscle.

Bucky grabbed at Steve's hair. Steve eased his finger in, slow, shallow thrusts, pulling away for more lube and then deeper thrusts, until he could curve his finger inside and listen to Bucky's shaky gasp.

He smiled.

It was nice to have time. They had a lot of it these days, as much as they wanted. He could fuck Bucky as slow as he wanted, with one slick finger until he started to squirm, with two, with three. He could take all night, ignore the call tomorrow and spend the whole day right here.

Steve gripped Bucky's thigh tight enough to leave bruises. He pressed the one finger in deep, all the way, and swallowed down Bucky's cock for a few slow bobs, a few swipes of his tongue. He pulled off with a wet  _pop_ and slid his hand to Bucky's hip, held him down and sat up on his knees.

"You have to stop moving so much if you want this."

"Just fuck me already."

"Oh, and I'm the bossy one."

He spread his knees, forcing Bucky's thighs even wider. He leaned a little harder on the hand on Bucky's hip, making it hard for Bucky to move. Forcing him to be still, to let Steve make him feel good. With one hand, Steve slicked his fingers again; eyes on Bucky's face, he teased him, the tips of his fingers against his ass, and then he pressed two in deep, a single smooth penetration. Bucky turned his head, mouth open against the fur, silent.

Steve watched Bucky's face, watched the flush rise on his chest, his neck, his cheeks, watched the sweat break at his temples, at his nipples, as he fucked him hard and slow and deep with two fingers, until each thrust was an easy glide, barely any resistance. He added a third finger, just to watch Bucky squirm, just to listen to him pant. Bucky's fingers dug hard into his hips, wanting to pull him closer. His cock was heavy inside his pants, straining, aching, dripping. But Bucky's cock, twitching with each jump of his heart and each brush of Steve's fingers over his prostate--Steve couldn't look away.

Bucky released Steve's hips and reached up, curled his hands under the headboard and arched his neck and closed his eyes tight. He was panting, close, trying to stave it off.

Steve stopped moving his fingers, three deep all the way to the knuckle. "Take the coat off," he said.

Bucky whined a little. "Steve."

"Take the coat off," he repeated, and curved his fingertips just so.

Bucky shook his arms out of the sleeves. He looked wrecked.

He looked beautiful.

Bucky looked up at him, blinking dark eyes.

"Turn over."

He seemed to come up from the sea of arousal for a moment. "You gonna take your fingers out of my ass?"

Steve grinned at him, quick, mostly teeth. "Nope."

Bucky chuckled, then moaned. Carefully, he did as Steve said, pulling one knee to his chest, rolling over. He got his knees under himself and pushed his ass into the air. And immediately got a hand around his dick and started pulling.

Steve let him get a few strokes in as he moved up on his knees behind him and opened his pants, relieving the pressure on his dick. Then he leaned down over him, his cock brushing the inside of Bucky's thigh, leaving a clear smear on warm skin, and he grabbed Bucky's wrist, tight, brought it back around. He pinned his wrist at the small of his back.

Very slowly, very carefully, he slid his fingers from Bucky's ass.

Bucky rubbed his face against the coat covering the pillow and panted.

Steve grabbed the metal arm, fingers closed tight around the cool wrist, and he brought it back, too. Bucky's face was buried against the fur. With no hand to support himself, his chest was pressed to the bed. Steve didn't have to look to know the fur was rubbing against Bucky's nipples, soft and warm and nowhere near enough friction. Steve wrapped one hand around both of Bucky's wrists at the small of his back and leaned up to look, to study the long line of Bucky's back, the straining muscles, the glint of sweat. He fumbled with the bottle of lube to squirt some on his cock, to squirt more on Bucky's ass.

Bucky moaned.

Steve took himself in hand, stroking. He rubbed the furious red head of his dick against Bucky, teasing them both. Then he pushed in.

Bucky moaned again, long and choked-off and high.

Steve set a punishing rhythm. He leaned hard on Bucky, forcing his face and shoulders and chest against the fur, forcing his back into an arch. He looked good like this. Amazing. Beyond amazing. Steve ran his free hand up and down Bucky's back, up and down his flank. He got a handful of Bucky's ass, pulled the cheek away from the other and watched his cock slide in and out. That got him close fast. So fast. He was shaking, shaking apart, near the edge. He pulled back, left just the tip inside Bucky, stared down and shook and tried to hold back. Tried to ease himself down.

Bucky twisted his shoulders, his breathing heavy. "Steve--"

He snapped his hips. His grip on Bucky's wrists tightened.

Steve fucked him slow and hard, grinding in deep, and his eyes traveled from Bucky's ass over his sweaty back and to the face he'd turned, half mashed into fur and pillow, half visible. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, and each time Steve thrust in he gave a quiet grunt or a low moan. He was gone, so gone. Steve ran his hand down Bucky's flank to his knee and curved his finger around his thigh. He yanked, spreading his legs wider, forcing Bucky off-balance again. Then he groped over his hip and down, and he cupped Bucky's balls and pressed the tips of his fingers over the hot skin behind him.

Overstimulated, Bucky came, shaking and shuddering, his teeth chattering and the servos in his arm whining, his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth open.

Steve stopped moving and watched Bucky's face, the bliss, the slack pleasure. He pulled out, slowly, over sensitive; he hissed between his teeth. Bucky whimpered. As soon as Steve let go of his wrists, Bucky fell, flat and boneless. He reached back, half-hearted and flailing a little, and gripped Steve's thigh.

"Down," he said, the one word all he seemed capable of.

Smiling, Steve lowered himself over Bucky, a big warm blanket. He nuzzled Bucky's shoulder and neck and kissed the hinge of his jaw.

"Poking me."

Steve muffled a laugh against his cheek. "Yeah."

Bucky wriggled, pushing his ass up against Steve's hips. "Unf."

Steve hid a smile against Bucky's neck, slipped his cock into the lube-slick crack of his ass, and started to rock.

Bucky slid his hand up and out. He linked his fingers with Steve and brought Steve's fingers to his mouth, kissed the back of them, each knobby knuckle.

Steve came, spilling against the small of Bucky's back where he'd left bruises, a hot squish between their bodies. The tension drained out of him and so did his bones, and he fell heavy atop Bucky, burying him into the mattress. There was a corner of the coat over Bucky's shoulder. Steve rubbed his cheek against it and kissed the side of Bucky's neck, idle, while his brain wandered back into his skull.

He moved off of Bucky when he could, rolling to flop to his back beside him. He didn't quite have the energy to pull his shirt back down and seal up his pants, so he left his eyes closed and pretended he couldn't open them.

"You could have married her," he said at last.

Bucky rolled to his side to face Steve and pulled the coat around himself. "Yeah," he agreed.

Steve opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at Bucky. "Why didn't you?"

"I was kind of in love with this skinny art student I knew." Bucky shrugged. After a moment, he said, seriously, "I didn't like the way her dad looked at Rebecca when they came over for dinner."

Steve frowned. "I didn't know they went over for dinner."

"I guess it was kind of serious." He ran his fingers down Steve's arm and took his hand.

"You guess." Steve scoffed.

"It wasn't that I didn't want all that, it was that I knew I couldn't have it with who I wanted it with. I was as serious about her as I was about anyone who wasn't you." He turned his face to rub his cheek against the fur and caught sight of part of the coat draped over his hip. "This coat is ruined." He made a face.

"Nah." Steve brought their hands to his mouth. He liked the feel of Bucky's callused fingers against his lips. "It just needs a bath. Minks take baths, right?"

Bucky looked at him, horrified. "You're not throwing my sex coat in the washer."

"I said a  _bath_ ."

Bucky pulled his hand away from Steve and climbed off the bed. "See, Steve, this is why I handle the laundry. We're not living in trenches or burned-down barns anymore, we can have nice things. We are going to have nice things." He picked up the coat and held it up. He sighed dramatically. "I'm going to need to find a new cleaners."

 


End file.
